It's odd, in a way. I worked my whole life to get to a place as a writer where I could publish and be recognized for my contributions and then I did that and I decided to stop writing. Believe me I wonder about it myself sometimes. But only briefly. Once a writer, always a writer. And I happen to be one who believes a little time off is good for the craft. I didn't always. It's been the gift of the last couple of years. Coming to grips with not being a preternatural talent and finding peace in a journey that's been totally worth it all the same. Doing so allowed me to stop doubting my voice, my mind, my perspective. Stop looking so hard for validation. I learned to expend that energy working on getting better. And I did. I got better bylines. I got better paydays. Something was missing, though. I wasn't satisfied in the way that I'd imagined I would be when I accomplished some of the goals I'd set for myself.
I decided that I wanted a different challenge. Wanted to see if I could take my life in a different direction and in so doing shake up my world view. Before it was too late. I saw the rut coming on. The kind of rut that lasts twenty, thirty years. A writer like any middle aged professional can sort of plateau. You find your level (or sweet spot) and you sort of bobble there for the rest of your days.You become an excellent, respected craftsmen yet predictable all the same. Predictability is the death knell of the writer. After all, writing in its purest form is supposed to be an act of discovery yet what I encounter on the Opinion pages often reads like dogma. One becomes a professional commentator on X, a leading light in Y, a notable thinker on Z. One is called upon to share one's ideas on very specific or very broad topics. One is trusted to offer a responsible set of insights that an audience can thoughtfully consider and discuss for a few months before growing bored and moving on to the next trusted public intellectual's theory of everything. One begins to congeal in one's ideas. One becomes a spot up shooter, a designated hitter. Trusted to sink the open shot and sometimes even a contested one. Celebrated specialist. A pro's pro. Steady Eddy.
I wasn't ready to move in that direction just yet so I made a left turn from the right lane and now here I am back to the basics. Which is not to be confused with square one.
I would like this to be a space where I can figure out my next chapter as a writer. What exactly that means I don't know. But I think I want it to start as a release valve. Frankly I miss the act of putting words down on paper, watching paragraphs form, pages collect. As a beginning writer the most intoxicating part was watching one word produce another and another, knowing I was the one producing them and discovering that there were no rules. That was profound for me. I never thought I'd find anything I loved as much as play basketball yet I found it with writing. In the early years I'd finish three, four journals a year. I produced thousands of words a day. I must've written a couple hundred poems over a two year period. Dozens of stories. Hundreds of sketches. It didn't matter that I was bad. The mere association with the writer's life was enough to sustain me. I'd found my calling and that was all I wanted out of life. The shift occurs the moment one decides to produce a commercial product. By which I mean something that they will share with others in hopes of an appraisal and, hopefully, approval. At that moment, the avocation becomes a vocation. Lines blur. The writing one does for one's self becomes less and less important. One finds one's self writing only that which is going to be read by others. Where once one wrote for one's self satisfaction exclusively, suddenly one writes only for others.
The irony of this being a blog that others may read is not lost on me. Yet there is an important distinction, I think. The production of these words was not at the request of an editor or in exchange for currency. It was not a reaction piece or a report on some piece of news. I am not trying to sell you anything or convince you of anything. Really, I just miss being in the gym.
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